


Skinny Love

by fantasycloud



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Denial, F/F, Heartbreak, Major character death - Freeform, My imagination of the aftermath of s03e07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasycloud/pseuds/fantasycloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Lexa's death, leaving Clarke as well as me heartbroken beyond repair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Love

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe that just happened. I refuse. And I'm truly sorry about this, but I felt like I had to.  
> The work is named after Birdy's Skinny Love, a song that kills me every time I listen to it so it seemed fitting.

She stares at the bed, unable to process what just happened. _Unwilling_ to process what just happened.

But it did.

A strangled sob escapes from her mouth and she slowly reaches down to touch the furs where she lay just seconds ago. It is still warm. It still holds her presence, still keeping her tethered to remain by its side. Afraid that if she leaves it, the reality of it all will hit her and Clarke doesn’t know if she’s ready for that. She doesn’t know if she _ever_ will be ready for that.

She had just opened up her heart again, only to have it crushed in a million pieces.

It felt like she was choking, choking on her emotions, choking on the truth. Choking on _life._ It was like a hand had closed around her heart in an iron grip and threatened to kill her. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe death would finally be her release.

But she couldn’t.

If she died, who would remember Lexa? Not _Heda,_ the almighty commander, but _Lexa?_ The sweet, caring, strong, smart, beautiful, _oh so beautiful_ woman that she was?

Clarke owed that to her, she owed it to Lexa for her to be remembered and would _be_ remembered for an endless amount of time. Because Lexa hadn’t just saved Clarke’s life from a bullet. She had saved her from _so much more._

She had saved her from a world of self destruction.

She had saved her from a life that didn’t contain love.

She had saved her from _herself._

And Clarke was grateful.

She was beyond grateful, but she still couldn’t accept that she was gone.

Lexa would any moment walk through that door and wear that smile that she had come to love so much. She would walk in and smile and say her name like it was the most beautiful name in the world. She would look into the striking most beautiful green eyes of hers and get lost in them as she could do for hours if she was allowed to. She would smile back and reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her cheek, slowly bringing her in for a searing kiss that would set of fireworks, explosions of emotions inside of her that would leave them both gasping for breath. She would feel how her smile grew until it stretched wide over her cheeks.

Her last words still echoed inside her head.

_Don’t be afraid._

They were supposed to have _time._ Time to forgive, time to let go. Time to heal. Time with _each other._

_You were right, Clarke. Life is about more than just surviving._

Now with one half of her gone, Clarke didn’t even know how to function. How could she go on living, when a part of her was missing? It was a gaping hole in her chest, a hole that never could be filled, never could be healed because the only person that could do that was gone.

_Ai gonplei ste odon._

She’s fucking _gone._

Another sob broke free and it left her in a shattering mess. It felt as if the ground was shaking beneath her feet, creating an earthquake that represented the raging storm within her. She gripped the furs tight with both of her hands and lowered her head down to rest above the place where she had held her hand.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

_There is nothing you can do now._

It wasn’t supposed to _end_ like this.

Hot tears made tracks down her cheeks, telling her sorrow in way her words could not. Telling how her heart was in turmoil, how her mind was in denial. Tears that told just how much she wasn’t okay, telling how she never would be.

They may be able to wash off of her face, but they would never go away. They would always tingle on her skin, as a reminder of the most exquisite soul there ever was that walked the earth. She would forever be remembered, forever be loved.

 _Leksa kom Trigedakru_ would be alive and would _stay_ alive as long as her memory lived on within her people.

Her spirit and soul would forever be remembered and would forever be cherished by those who loved her.

And Clarke swore that she would never forget.

She swore that Lexa will never have died in vein.

She swore that she would always remember Lexa, the one that showed her that life was about more than just survival.


End file.
